Beginnings
by AlianneLovesLiam
Summary: They're legends now, but even heroes begin somewhere. This is how I think some characters began. R/R
1. Chapter 1 George

**One-shot, possibly multiple one-shots of how some of our favorite characters got their start.**

**A/N- This is how I think George became the Rogue. It may be slightly cliché and I'm sorry if I don't have George's age right. Please read, review, and check out my other stories. Love**

** -AlianneLovesLiam**

The night was silent as sixteen-year-old George Cooper slunk carefully through the twisting back alleys that would eventually lead him to the Dancing Dove, where it would also be unnaturally silent. Since Caleb Hantin, better known as 'Terror', had taken control of Corus's streets, fear was struck into everyone. Residents of the Lower City were starving, their 'taxes' to Terror draining their coffers faster than any man, woman, or child could fill them. The Provost Guard turned a blind eye, not wanting to get involved with the Rogue. They were also getting paid.

Soon the Dove's dark form came into view. There were a few shadows moving in the casement, and Marek, George's competitor and best friend, nudged him with his elbow.

"Ther' 'e is, George. I told ye' he was gonna be there."

"I never doubted ye', Marek. I just had t' be sure." Marek opened his mouth argue, but George shook his head.

George looked back over his shoulder at the twelve men accompanying him on this revolutionary journey. He had spent months upon months getting theses men to agree to help him become the Rogue and he had to prove to them that he would, in fact, be able to take up that mantle. Now was the time to prove it. He had to win this. He _had_ to; otherwise he wouldn't have anything to hold on to. He wouldn't be able to face his mother again. He could face her knowing that he was a thief and a liar, but he could not and would not face her knowing he had failed her or his people. He'd always thought of Lower City folk as 'his' to a degree.

He signaled for his men to separate into six teams of two. They spread out, surrounding the building and settling into the positions they had been assigned earlier in the planning after George had found out every way in and out of the structure. He and Marek were to confront Terror, and when the others heard commotion or unusual noises, they would enter the main room where most of the inevitable fighting was to take place. If things went according to plan. If they didn't, they would take the fight to the streets, which George knew better than any person in Corus, Port Caynn, and Irontown combined. Even so; fighting in a building was better that fighting in the streets where his men could be ambushed.

Taking a steadying breath, he once again looked at Marek.

"Ye've got my back, right Marek?" he asked, wanting the reassurance.

His friend let out a breath and smiled brazenly. "S'nce when 'ave I not, brother?"

George didn't reply, just focused his sight and his Sight on the door. After having assorted street kids hang around and scout out the Dove, he knew that there was at least one back entrance and that the front door was never locked, though they were always guarded heavily by Terror's cronies. At night, these followers were highly intoxicated and woe unto any woman who had a matter to take up with the mess that dared call himself the Rogue. All that would change when George became Rogue. And become Rogue he would.

Moving forward with practiced stealth, George and Marek broke apart, each going to an opposite side of the door. George was slightly ahead of Marek, which was as planned. George nodded at Marek, then slammed the door open. The room quieted as everyone looked toward the tall sixteen year old that stood in the doorway, knives held ready in his hands. The boy that, unbeknownst to them, would soon be their leader.

**Okay, so that's the first 'beginning'. Review, and tell me if you think that this is good enough to continue with other characters. If you do, suggestions of characters are welcome. I've started brainstorming Alanna, Thom, and Jon, although those will be more about when they realized what their lives were truly about. (Jon realizing that Tortall will eventually be his, Thom wanting more out of his Gift, etc.)**wHe


	2. Chapter 2 Thom

**A/N- I'm sorry that I haven't updated in….well, a long, long time. I hope anybody who has reviewed, favorited, etc., etc. Here I go with chapter two! This is Thom.**

Thom looked nervously up at the huge grey stone building looming before him. The Mithran cloisters. Yes, fine, he had been ahead with his studies at the convent, but that was a convent where they trained girls how to get a husband and how to be demure and other worthless stuff that he knew they would use. Because they were told and taught to. _At least Alanna's not like that._ He didn't know if he'd be able to handle it if she was like that.

The carriage door banged open and he tumble out. He'd been leaning too heavily against it. He felt his face flush red but didn't hear the derisive laughter that he usually heard. Instead he just heard the low murmur of conversations that usually stopped whenever he was near. There wasn't any flinching as he passed older students. He felt sort of…accepted. He didn't have to be near people to feel accepted here, and that was definitely how Thom liked it.

4 months later

Thom looked around the room where they practiced the spells they learned and grinned with pride. He was standing in the middle of the room with his classmates standing around him and the rift in the floor that divided the room in two. They were supposed to practice the rift spell and he was the first one to practice. And he had done it the first time. He was also the first person to even attempt the spell.

Soon, the instructor for his year had him take teats for the second and third years, which he passed. Now he was one of the best fourth year initiates there was.

Soon though, he would be the best there ever was. Nobody, not even his sister's 'smiling friend'.


	3. Chapter 3 Si-Cham

Si-Cham wasn't like the other boys at the Mithran cloisters. He was abnormally small, skinny, and smart.

Of course, it was totally different matter when he was passing the exams for him. They loved him, practically worshipped him, when he was explaining theories to them in a way that made sense and correcting mistakes in their papers.

But other than that, they talked. Talked about the disgrace of is birth as if such things mattered to them. Talked about the slow way he talked, as though he was trying to think and speak at the same time and it was an overload. Talked about how he had no friends.

Really though, he thought about what he said. He'd been hurt too many times to want to hurt others. Even if they hurt him.


End file.
